Geneva On The Lake & Conneaut
by Linda Carruth

Sunday, June 10, 2007
I assumed that Scott would get up early and get me up, but I was wrong. He must have been pretty tired too. I was awakened by the phone at eight-thirty. It was John. They were asking if we still wanted to leave around ten. The earlier the better. I got up and made breakfast, all rush rush. Then I jumped in the shower and got ready to go. Richard got here first; he and Scott had coffee out on the porch. Scott cleaned up my bike and checked our tire pressures. I told him we'd have to squirt the chain before we left. A little while later, John and Sherry arrived while I was packing my saddlebags, and once I was ready, we went around to the gas station. I started out with my leather jacket, minus the lining. I packed my leather vest, and extra long sleeved top, and of course I still had my jean jacket and a long sleeved white t-shirt.

At Sunoco, John and Sherry just waited on the side. Richard said something about only having twenty pounds of pressure in each tire. Scott went in and paid for gas and told me to start pumping when he was on the way out. We would be picking up Mike and Terry at their home in Newbury. So we all got our stuff together and left out.

We went up Tuxedo and turned right on Broadview and then left on Snow. When we stopped at the light at Dunham, Richard asked me which Polaris I went to for my class. I had to think. I told him it was over by where John used to live, by the fairgrounds. Then I told him it wasn't a dealership (in case that's what he thought), it was a place where they have night classes. I wondered if he was thinking about taking the class; he's always way back there, bringing up the rear. He doesn't like to go fast, so he was behind me. At the next light, Lee Rd, I said jokingly, "why, am I that bad?" which I know I'm not. At the next light he's asking me if I ride my front brake. What? NO! He said my brake light was staying on. It shouldn't be, we've adjusted it so it won't come on unless I press on it. So after that, I'm self conscious about my brake, but all the while thinking that he must have been confused.

We turned right on Aurora. I stayed way to the left figuring John was right next to me, although I realized later that he backed off. We zigzagged through Solon and got onto Bainbridge Rd. We turned onto old 422, which is now a continuation of Bainbridge Rd. We traveled east a bit and then turned left on Auburn Rd, where John took over the lead. At some point, he wasn't sure where we were, so we turned a corner and pulled over on the side of the road. He called Mike to get some bearings, and directions. We were on the right track, so we turned around and got back on Auburn Rd. I had been trying to hold my foot up, but it started to ache so I gave that up after a while. All I can figure is that Richard must have seen me slowing down for a bump or something. He's not that bright. The others didn't think that much of it and John said he would look. I never heard another word about it. If there was a problem, someone else would have said something.

We got to Mike and Terry's place and had to go up a sloping driveway. Everyone else was turning around and I was holding my bike up on an inclined driveway. I turned it around and parked downhill. I stopped to use the bathroom and got ready to go. I folded up the leather jacket and crammed it into my saddlebag, and then I put on my leather vest. Under that I had my long sleeved white firebike shirt.

We got back out onto Auburn Rd and took that up to 322. When we turned right on 322, the left turning red car across the way started to turn. Scott had to stop. I had to stop mid turn, and the driver ended up letting us go. I know he saw us; I don't know what he was trying to do. And to make matters worse, I didn't see him start to turn because I was already into my turn. That was scary.

Our order was mixed the whole trip. We started out with Scott and John up front and then me, then Richard. Now Scott and I were up front, with Mike behind me, and then the other two. I'm guessing Richard was last. I think he thought I should be last because I was the newest rider, but you know what? It doesn't matter to me. I can ride anywhere. I like going last because then I don't have to worry about another bike coming up on my side.

We turned left on 534 to head up to Geneva. This was a nice ride though. We stopped at the gas station outside of Geneva, at my earlier request. I just figured it would be the last decent place for the ladies to hit the bathroom. The bathroom at Eddie's Grill is impossible. There's only one for each gender and there's always a long line for the ladies room. We topped off our tanks and got ready to go. Terry wanted to eat at the Firehouse Winery, which I thought would be off the strip and expensive. Boy, was I wrong. Anyway, we headed out the side driveway onto the side street. I was basically third. As I turned out, a truck came around the corner, so I had to hurry to get out of the way. I wound up just behind John and he waved me around to get back behind Scott. It didn't really matter to me.

Anyway, we rode through downtown Geneva, getting through the first set of railroad tracks with no problem. The second set was another story as we had to stop for a long train. When the caboose appeared, I slapped it down into first. I heard Scott restart his bike. We got going again and soon we were navigating those ninety degree turns that eventually turn us around one hundred and eighty degrees and put us on the strip. We passed up a lot of parking spaces. Scott was leading, I was behind him, and John was behind me. Scott dipped over to the right a couple of times and I started to veer over to park and then he changed his mind. Finally, he found a spot, dipped in to park, I came next, although, I had to pull up again and go back. All five bikes wound up parking in one parallel parking space. We got ourselves situated. I switched glasses and locked up my helmet. We started walking. Terry's on Weight Watchers, so she couldn't have the fried stuff at Eddie's Grill. We were going to the Firehouse Winery. I knew that would happen, but that was okay. Mike said they have tables outside and you have a view of the lake. That sounded good to me, but it was clear they had this planned all along.

Then I found out that John almost clocked me one. When I started to dip to park the first time, the false alarm, he was right behind me and was sightseeing and almost hit me. He hit me once on the Virago, three years ago (the only season I had the Virago and rode with them). We crossed over and walked down to the winery, which was just past the water slides. We had to pay a cover charge of five dollars to get in and then have a wrist band put on, I guess because they had a polka band playing and were using the gazebo as a dance floor. Tents were set up for walk up food, way over on the other side. They had tables out in the sun, and more tables up on a deck and under a tent top. This area was adjacent to the indoor restaurant and had a good view. I made sure I scooted around to the other side of the table so I could have a view of the lake. We sat down, and as we waited for service, I listened happily to the polka band and took in the lake view. The polkas made me feel very at home.

The lake was shaded in deep blue but was an over all dark turquoise. I have never seen that lake such a beautiful color. We finally got menus and ordered. I asked Scott what he was getting; I was thinking about the corned beef. That's what he was thinking, too. I told him we've been married too long. I put my menu down and a little later I picked it back up to look for beverage choices. I didn't see any. A couple minutes later, Scott picks it up. I told him I couldn't find any beverage choices. He said that's what he was looking for, and then commented that we've been married too long. I guess we just think alike already. It's uncanny sometimes.

At one point, Mike asked me how long I had been riding and said that John told him I started riding last year. He said I "do okay." I don't know if that's good or bad. I told him I'd been riding a few years. Now I'm wondering if "okay" is good enough for the years I've been riding. He said that he takes it easy and lays back because drivers are just so unpredictable. I told him that I'm used to keeping up with Scott because he'll run off and get away from me. Truth be told, if I lay back too much, somebody gets in between us, can try to squeeze in with a turn, etc.

It took forever to get our food. After we'd been there an hour, Richard had already given up and went over to one of the tents to get some food. He came back with pierogi and cole slaw. We complained to a server, not ours, that they could have at least brought us our beverages. A while later, the people at the table behind us got their food, for which they waited a long time, and commiserated with us, but they got there a while after us. Terry had gone into the restaurant to complain. When she came out, she took one look at the table behind us and went right back in. Here, she had been told that the reason they'd gotten their food first because they ordered nachos. When she saw that they had much more than nachos, she went back in to snap at them some more. Sorry, but that reflected our tablemates' comments, not mine. We had just gotten our drinks at this time. We waited another hour for our food. Mike and Terry kept apoligizing for the service, and that wouldn't you know, when you recommend a place, that's when something goes wrong. I really didn't mind it at first. I was enjoying the polkas and the lake view, not to mention the breezes. When we were getting close to the end of the second hour, I was starting to get antsy too. Mike had apologized earlier and I said it was okay. Scott assured him that I was enjoying myself with the polka band.

Finally, we got our food, which was hot, thankfully. The corned beef was lean and Scott and I shared an order of fries. They also serve fresh nacho chips and homemade salsa. I've been having some problems with my stomach and wanted to get straightened out before the Alabama trip, so I only tasted the salsa. I didn't partake, per se. We hit the bathroom at the restaurant and then went back to pay. I let the girl keep the change which was about three dollars. She asked if we needed change as she looked at how much was there. I just said yeah, keep the change. She gave me a funny look and looked at her as if to say she's lucky she got that. A good tip says the service was sufficient, while a great tip says the service was exceptional. A small tip on the other hand, says so much more than no tip at all. The patron could just be a bad tipper, but an intentional low tip says the service stunk. And it did stink!

We walked around the other side as we left. Richard said something about the water dripping over from the water slides, making no sense at all. We stopped around the other side of the building and I took the opportunity to yank up my socks, which had crawled all the way down into my boots. That's never happened before with these boots, but whatever. We walked back to the bikes and Mike asked if anyone had to rush off. He suggested a ride along the lake. That sounded great to me.

We got ready to go and pulled out to the right, heading east. We came to a fork in the road and had to bear to the right to follow 531 along the lake. It was gorgeous. We rode through several clearings with the lake on our left. The water was a beautiful turquoise. I've probably been through there before, but that had to be years and years ago when the lake was an ugly olive green. It was just breathtaking today.

I was getting cooler, but doing okay. We went through a couple of small towns. Scott and I had planned to go this way last season but couldn't get it together due to all the rain and flooding out this way. We wanted to head out 531 and take either Rt 45, Rt 11, or Rt 7. Today, we ended up turning right on Rt 7 which parallels the Ohio Pennsylvania border. We were in Conneaut, Ohio (there's a Conneaut, PA too). Actually, I thought this might end up being my first ride out of state.

We went south a small piece and turned right again. We parked along the side of the road on a small side street. The street was pretty chewed up with grated areas, multi-levels, and plenty of gravel. I took it easy. We were parked across from an old neighborhood store, like we used to see in our old city neighborhoods. On our side of the street there was an old railroad museum, namely the Nickel Plate Road Railroad Museum. I took some pictures, including the little store at Sandusky Avenue. We were there for at least forty-five minutes, which made for a nice break.

Once we got ready to go, I got my leather out and put the vest away. I knew it would be colder on the way home. I debated about just using the jean jacket, but I knew better. Some of the guys with passengers moved onto the other side street so the women could get on easier. We solos moved over there behind them and waited to get going. For the lake part of the ride and after the museum, Mike led, with Richard up there behind him, then John, and then me and Scott. Now it was the same order, except Scott was behind me. Well, I've had Mike behind me, John behind me, and now Scott behind me. No one ever mentioned my brake light.

We got back to Rt 7 and continued south. We turned right on Rt 6 and followed that to head back west. We rode a long long time. My bike felt really hot, but it was running fine. I was really aching for a stop already, but I hung in. We followed Rt 6 to Rt 534 at Hartsgrove, but instead of stopping at the BP station, we went around the square and stopped at a little general store. We all dipped and backed in except Scott. I took a while doing it, and John came over to help me push backwards. He asked if I needed a push and I said no. I told him that when there's gravel, or where my feet can slip, I go slower and use smaller foot pushes. It makes sense for me with my girlie strength and my shorter stature. I told him I'd rather take a little longer and be sure. I'm sure glad Scott wasn't there bugging me. It's an effort for me.

We all went into the store at our own pace and got what we wanted. Some looked for coffee, which would have to be made, as I understood it, and some wanted ice cream. When I went in, I noticed a sign saying they had no rest rooms. I went to get some coffee after being told they didn't have any and had to make some. I thought it might be close to being done. They had coffee, but it was old and they wouldn't be making any more because it was too close to closing time. The gal behind the counter told me she didn't know how long the existing coffee had been there, and that the guy before her must have made it. She wouldn't even take any money for it. I poured a cup and shared it with Scott. It was really strong and sort of burnt tasting, like old coffee that's been sitting in a hot pot all day. After the coffee, which I KNEW was going to kill my stomach eventually, I went back for an ice cream cone to cut the strong coffee. Mike kept saying how nice this day was, as everyone sat around and relaxed. Scott and I stayed on our feet. We'd been sitting long enough; it was time to stretch our legs. Someone noticed a sign saying that the place had been around since 1836. An older couple pulled up on four wheelers. The lady parked kind of jerky, but she managed. They were coming for ice cream. She said the four wheelers were their version of Harleys. Another couple came for ice cream a few minutes later, but the place was already closed by that time.

We talked about topping off the tanks and Mike said something about getting gas in Chardon. We were going to stop at Mike's house after that for some fresh coffee. I wish I had known that because I wouldn't have drunk the free mud. The long break did me a world of good though. I'm getting tired. Scott and I wanted to get home by nine for the Sopranos series finale. I tried to call Matt to see if he could set up the DVR, but he begged off. Hey, I can always catch it at midnight on the west coast feed.

We finally got going. We turned right on Rt 6 and headed for Chardon. We came to a gas station after a bit and turned into a chewed up lumpy bumpy driveway, which was odd because it looked like a newer place. After gassing up, I went to use the bathroom and encountered a sign on their door that said they have no rest rooms. Don't people use bathrooms out here?

We went out another way, that we were told would be smoother. It was. We continued west on Rt 6, taking that to Auburn Rd, where we made our way to Mike's house for coffee. I was parking in the driveway and had to pull up again to reposition myself. I wanted to back it up some more and Scott kept telling me to just park it. He wouldn't shut up. I'm trying to keep the bike balanced and gauge where I need to go and he was actually yelling at me. It takes all my strength and concentration to do this and talking to him and listening to his distracting babble saps my strength. I was getting mad, and I let things go a little bit too far to the left and almost dropped the bike. It started to go over and I used everything I had to keep it from going over. I heard "shit shit shit" coming out of my mouth as I somehow managed to muscle the bike back up to vertical. That was a close one. I don't know if anyone else realized, but after that happened Scott shut up and left me alone. I don't know how I mustered the strength to do that; it must have been all adrenaline.

I had to shake this off. I handled it. And I was a little miffed at Scott. We needed to get home, too. Terry gave me a tour of the house, which was absolutely beautiful, as was the outside patio area. We had coffee and sat in the living room a while. When Scott, John, and Sherry went out to smoke, I followed. We all talked a while until John realized they left Mike and Terry in there with Richard. We finally decided we'd better go. We wanted to watch the Sopranos, and after that, the rest of the NBA Finals game (which actually starts at nine). Scott asked me if we could take the freeway, 422, to Harper Rd. I was fine with it. I would have suggested it, but I didn't want it to be my decision. I almost wished we'd just take it all the way home. I did tell Scott that I would need to stop when the sun went down because I would have to switch glasses. My sunglasses are just too dark.

We left out of there and got back onto Auburn Rd. We turned left on 87, heading east, and then onto Rt 44. We rolled through the Punderson curves and then got onto 422 west. The speed limit was 65mph, so we did that for a while and then gradually got it up to 70mph. We didn't get off at Harper, and I was kind of glad. I just wanted to get home. I resent Scott tricking me, but it worked in my favor this time.

My hand started to bother me and was getting numb after a while. I sped up to Scott and then let off the throttle with the clutch pulled in. I didn't bleed off too much speed that way and I had an opportunity to shake the numbness out of my hand. By the time we were on 480, the speed limit was down to sixty, so we did sixty-five. Richard got along side of us and got off at Broadway. John and Sherry waved good-bye at Transportation Blvd in Garfield Hts. Scott and I headed for the Valley View bridge.

Just as you get on the bridge, there are large markers on the roadway that say 50mph because you're entering a construction zone. Scott didn't slow down but I did. And then I had to speed up to stay with him. Scott soon got the message and slowed it down. Then we got into one of those narrow lanes with concrete barriers on either side. We got off at Brookpark, and luckily Scott used his signal to let me know where the lane turn offs were. It had all been changed around because of the construction.

While we were stopped at the light at Brookpark, Scott said that he saw that traffic wasn't bad, so he decided to stay on the freeway, and that he hoped I didn't mind. Bullshit. Anyway, I told him I was glad he did that because I wanted to get home. We still turned off at Tuxedo and putted down through the hood. It wasn't dark yet. We pulled into the driveway, but Jason's car was there. Scott went around on the grass and parked there to go open the garage. I waited for him to get through, and then I went around on the grass. I just didn't want to park there and have to start up and get back on the driveway.

I parked, revved it, and shut off my bike. 209 miles today

It was around 8:40pm when we got home. We talked to Herb for a while in the driveway. He was taken aback at the thought of doing seventy on the freeway even though I assured him the speed limit was 65mph that far outside the city. I went in and put away my stuff, took my wristband off, and realized my sunglass clip-ons were gone. I got myself comfortable and got cozy on the couch to watch the Sopranos final episode. The sudden ending surprised me, and neither of us got it at first. I had to watch it again at midnight to get it. Then I watched the Cavs game, the second game of the NBA Finals. They lost to the San Antonio Spurs. Shit. Now it moves back to Cleveland.

Funny thing though… I had a taste for onion rings all week.

©2008 The L.W. Wallace Co., Inc.